


getting there from here

by loonanders



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Comfort, Gen, I'm bad at tags, Implied Godhood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:40:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28159914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loonanders/pseuds/loonanders
Summary: Blackwall receives divine intervention.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 4





	getting there from here

Though his confession was meant to cast his guilt away, it was difficult for him to escape it. Ever since he appeared before the Inquisitor, Blackwall's eyes have been weighed down by shame and fear of reading the disappointment in his peers' gaze. No matter how much he tried to keep his head up and look forward, his eyes found themselves staring at the ground, silently counting the footprints the others left ahead of him.

It has been a little over a week since Cassandra last spoke to him. Solas, on the other hand, made it clear that he had no sympathy for the man. To him, the confession was nothing commendable; it was a necessity, something he owed the Inquisition and everyone that had been wronged by his actions. And so, Blackwall silently accepted his fate like he had been doing since the regret first struck him and vowed to stop wondering what the others must be thinking of him.

Yet, his curiosity remained every time Raveena was around.

Blackwall dragged his shame around like a ball and chain, a burden which he nevertheless learned to live with. But ever since Raveena was properly introduced at the Winter Palace, her presence made it unbearable. He had choked in surprise at the very first bits of her title and the ball that had formed in his throat remained ever since.

How else was he supposed to feel around _Lady Raveena, Champion of Redcliffe, Arlessa of Amaranthine, Warden-Commander and Hero of Ferelden_ herself?

Each word she spoke felt like a trap and each look she gave him seemed to know a lot more than it let on. He remembered all the questions she had asked him about the Wardens and all the evasive answers he had given, each of them feeling like a failed test now. What could she possibly think of him?

Raveena never mentioned it. She addressed him casually, asked him if he wanted her share of food and joined in on the jokes as though nothing ever happened, and although there was no malice or reproach in her voice, Blackwall could only explain her apparent indifference as a cruel form of disdain.  
His confusion weighed heavy and it didn't take her long to pick up on it. As she stood next to him while they were unsaddling their horses, she could feel the anticipation Blackwall's silence held. As if he _wanted_ her to say something.

“You did well.”

A clement answer to an unspoken prayer, coming out of her mouth like the warm, fragrant steam from a freshly baked loaf of bread. Her gaze didn't steer away from her horse, but the gentleness of her words sufficed to carry her intent over.

“I'm sorry?”

The softness in her voice was remarkable, yet the meaning it held startled Blackwall.

“What you did for Moran. It was good.”  
“I... did what I had to.”

There was certainty in the way he said it. Blackwall agreed with Solas; he didn't expect praise or admiration for turning himself in. The only thing he sought was to make peace with himself and he was slowly getting to it.

He couldn’t have guessed that Raveena would make it easier.

“Most people wouldn't.”

She shrugged and looked up from the knot she was tying just long enough to flash him a smile. It was genuine and kind, like warm rays of sun washing over a desolate land after its god was finally appeased. Her horse was securely tied to a nearby tree and she walked away, humming to herself as her hand landed on Blackwall’s shoulder in a gesture usually attributed to long-time friends.

“Hey, lighten up. You're a Grey Warden now. Whatever you did before doesn't matter.”

Sure, the order was filled with ex-criminals who seemingly had moved on with their lives; that didn't make it any less hard to believe in. Whatever they did still mattered to the victims, to their families, to _themselves_. Joining the Grey Wardens was often a chance to start over with a clean slate, but the only consequences it spared were material: what scarred the soul was inescapable. Raveena had joined the order of her own accord, but she has seen the hurt on her officers' faces light up as they told their stories around a fire. It never went away.

Still, for a moment, Blackwall found comfort in her words. He could tell she meant them; the sincerity in her eyes was unmistakable and the warmth of her palm on his shoulder made it all too real.

“Well, I can only hope what I do next will,” he muttered resignedly, as though he didn’t have any choice other than being the best possible version of himself. One he would have made even if others were available or easier.

Raveena smiled knowingly.

“It will.” She gave his shoulder a final pat, then sauntered away to help an officer carry a bunch of logs into the camp.

There was so much resolve in those two words, a sort of unwavering faith not even he ever had in himself. Whether they were words of reassurance or a promise, Blackwall could not tell. But, this much he knew: it felt like a path had been traced for him, and he was ready to walk it.


End file.
